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Maternal Heart - Before Silent Hill
This was a man named Blaine Haloren, a heterosexual, twenty-seven-year-old male who lived in a relatively cheap apartment overlooking a relatively busy street in a relatively low-income neighbourhood. His relatively low-paying job was simply a cashier at a department store, and he was going on his seventh year there.Why hadn’t he bothered changing jobs? He didn’t know. What he simply did know was that he was normal, and disturbingly so.From the job he had to the way he had his hair (ponytail) to his build, weight, height, features, mannerisms. He didn’t like that.Really, he had a very normal craving to be unique, and somehow the idea always bothered him most after he had the dream he could never remember. The stucco ceiling would slide into focus first, and he would always have this vague and incomplete thought that it was going to suddenly fall on him. His arms would move wearily up to stop it, but of course, it never happened.Soon he would be sitting up from the adrenaline rush of the nightmare, and then he would see the T.V. across the room and it would come into focus and he would remember who he was, and sigh, somewhere between relief and disgust. Then he would go into the kitchen portion of his one-room apartment, take one of his two bowls and one of his two spoons and pour himself some Captain Crunch. That would only take ten minutes, since he never did the dishes until after he got home.The shower came next, in a bathroom that was really too small, but it didn’t bother him. He’d wash his hair and his body, trying to focus on something else.Inevitably, his eyes would cheat downwards and he would start to think of another abysmally average aspect of himself, laugh bitterly and then try to think of something else again. Sometimes, it even worked.It was always out of mind when he got to the mirror. There he is, folks. Mr. Blaine Haloren, staring at himself, naked, in a small bathroom in Brahms, West Virginia, about to go to his job, where he’s never missed a day and only been late twice in almost seven years. That fact was odd indeed considering his disorganization.There were empty boxes on the floor, from pizza or Chinese food; his tax papers strewn in a heap on his nightstand, his remote for his too-small T.V. lost for the millionth time that week. He glanced around for it as he got dressed, didn’t find it, shrugged it off. At the very least, he looked pretty good dressed.He didn’t need a uniform for his job, the store being very small-time and very local, but he dressed nicely in a fuzzy gray sweater, dark-blue jeans, black shoes. His black hair was in a ponytail, and though a few strands come off here and there, it looked pretty good.He doesn’t have the most attractive face, but he doesn’t look bad at all. Suddenly there was a name he didn’t know in his head. Michael wasn’t there, right, Blaine? “No, Michael wasn’t.” He furrowed his brows, unconsciously heading towards the window. Who was he? The phrase ‘someone bad’ was the first one that came to his mind. “A guy from when I was a kid, I think.Not important anymore.” He took a seat by the window, looked out. Dad wasn’t there either. “Dad I can understand. Dad was an asshole.”He remembered that for sure, even if a lot of other details were kind of fuzzy. “Hit me once or twice.” Don’t most Dads? He paused, shook his head a bit. Something was on the edge, didn’t end up coming.“Of course they did. Remember, I’m normal.” No reply this time, so Blaine looked out the window some more. He didn’t have to leave for another few minutes, and this particular activity pretty interesting.There, for instance, was a man in a suit in this part of town, talking on a cell phone. Ten years ago, that would’ve meant he was a big deal, but not anymore.Blaine wondered, as he often did, how normal that man’s life was. Maybe he had a well-paying job, even, and maybe he was happy, but that wasn’t quite abnormal. Passing him was a woman who was very pregnant, a cigarette in one hand and her boyfriend’s hand in the other. Their clothes looked pretty cheap, and Blaine wondered if they were going to be able to afford that child.Would it be a burden? Most likely.The couple was laughing all the same. So you think the dreams are normal too, right? “People dream, don’t they? Normally?” The dream and the idea that the ceiling might fall. . . those things made him feel different. He’d look around at things, though, at himself, tell himself how normal he was and how he hated being normal.When he looked out the window, though, it helped him. It helped him stay grounded, outside the nightmare and outside any perceived differences.The idea of being normal was abysmally comforting. The look out the window helped him live his ordinary life, made him think of himself as one of many, and not flirt with that enticing, dangerous idea that he was different. Do ordinary people talk to themselves? “Sure they do.” He hated being normal, but he needed to be. There was a span of five minutes he spent sitting there, happy and unhappy that he couldn’t shake the idea that today, he was different. Today, everything was different.Standing, he walked quickly to the door, grabbing his leather jacket and slipping it on, confident he looked good. Then he was grabbing his keys and leaving his room.He looked the door slowly, thinking something elegant about the way the door locked, kept everyone out of his business. If he didn’t have the key, even he couldn’t get back in. There was suddenly noise. He heard from a speaker: “A tragic attack outside of a convenience store in Silent Hill today, leaving one woman dead and her daughter severely wounded. . .” How Blaine’s blood drained from his face. Dream-like images came up suddenly.The convenience store. His Mother.The gun. The blood.Before he could understand what happened, he was back in his room, the T.V. was on, and he couldn’t remember when he’d touched it. “. . .the woman, identified as Ms. Laura Miller, was shot and killed while taking her daughter Sharon to the convenience store, witnesses report. She had been shot three times in the stomach three tings, little tings, happy tings along with her daughter. Ms. Miller reportedly died at the scene not long after she was shot, but her daughter remains in critical condition.The unidentified gunman fled the scene immediately.” Blaine had never really forgotten the day he’d been shot, the day his mother died. What normal guy would?He was frozen there, staring mindlessly at the T.V. Exactly the same, isn’t it? That voice, filled with a reason and logic he only wished he possessed, kept him from nearly fainting. He nodded his head slowly, saying without knowing, “It’s the same guy.” You think so? He furrowed his brows, shook his head. “No.Of course not, it can’t be…” You don’t believe that, unfortunately. Leaning forward and quickly turning off the television he didn’t remember turning on, he nodded quickly, walking back towards the door. “I do believe it.Of course I believe it. It’s a coincidence.” You talk like a robot when you lie, you know. He had just locked the door again. How good that sealing click sounded to him. You want to check it out, don’t you? Yes, he did, but he kept walking. Down the stairs, out the door, into the parking lot. Don’t you? “No!” he exclaimed rather suddenly, resulting in a queer glance from a lady walking by. He smiled a little and muttered and apology as he opened the car door.Honda Civic, blue. How ordinary. I know you’re lying, Blaine. I’m not stupid. The car was already running. “Okay, fine.So what if I want to? It’s ridiculous anyway, even if it was the same guy and it isn’t.”He was talking so fast. “I go there and do what, exactly?” Find him. The idea struck him with such a simple clarity that he fumbled his argument. He knew how great it would be, just to find him.So, the next thing he knew, the door to the car was open, then the door to the apartment building. And wouldn’t it be something really different? Even if nothing comes of it, you could use a little vacation. “Which is what will end up happening, because I won’t find him. This is insane.”Even as he said it, he was unlocking his apartment door. You’re pretty indecisive too. We still love ya. He was inside, heading to his nightstand. “I need a vacation, like you said.I need to get out of here for a while, take a vacation. Like normal people.” There was a key under his lamp that he was fetching. Before he knew what for, he was staring at the inside of a locked drawer, staring at a handgun. Where the hell did you get that? He paused. “. . .I don’t remember.”He didn’t remember a lot of things, but he grabbed it along with the spare clip and put them both into his pocket. Now we’re getting excited! Let me guess what you plan to do with that gun. “Shoot him.” And the clip? “Back-up.” Right. You’re carrying a concealed, loaded firearm into a populated town on a vigilante hunt for justice. That ought to go over real well with the police. “It was your idea.” He was looking the handgun over, turning the safety off, making sure there was already a clip in the gun.There was. Blaine didn’t even realize how his rational mind had shut completely off.He was suddenly going. There was suddenly no turning back.He was suddenly crazy. In the car, jamming the stick into reverse, pulling out, turning onto the street.Auto-pilot. You realize how dangerous it is. “I don’t plan on using the damn thing if I don’t have to.” He attempted to speak like a rational human being not doing anything rationally. Even though your objective is to “Shoot him.” Blaine said nothing, on the highway now, riding on the highs of a childish fantasy. Soon, though, he was gone inside himself again, thinking important things.Downtown Brahms was a whir around him, a forest of steel and lights, flashing occasionally, painfully into his eyes. And he, in his car, driving through it and completely against it, as he’d dreamed for about a decade, but without the courage to take that first step. His foot was on the pedal, driving too fast, glancing occasionally at the walking people, or the people in their cars and thinking giddily, I’m finally not like them. It was still a dangerous thought, but the monotony was broken at last and that was all that mattered.Soon the highway turned and thinned, as the buildings did, trees replacing towers as dots on the horizon, still a blur. Suddenly Blaine heard the tune of Crazy Train, and he was startled before he remembered that it was his cell phone. How rarely he used it.Fumbled for it, got it out of his inner chest pocket, flipped it open. “Hello?” Her voice was perfectly clear. “Blaine…”She sounded a bit nervous. “Long time no talk, huh?” “It’s a day to be reminded of the past.” He smiled with little humour. Amanda Haloren, Blaine’s sister, paused a long moment. “So you saw it?On the news?” His turn to pause, inhale deeply. “Yeah, I saw it.” Her voice had always been soft, hard to hear, but now it was raised, and she sounded genuinely worried. “Are you alright, Blaine?” Blaine thought about the handgun in his pocket, the clip in his other pocket, the particularly active voice in his head, the fact that he hadn’t called work. “Not really.” “Are you on your way to work?” The concern was suddenly fighting with sorrow in her tone. He thought of lying to her, but he rarely did. Rarely could.So he paused for longer than he should have, trying to muster up courage before blurting out, “I’m on my way to Silent Hill.” “What?!” Now there was shock. His defensive instinct rose, talking fast and angry. “I think it’s him, Amanda.I don’t know why, but I’m sure and even if it’s not I could really use a goddamn vacation.” She sounded quite simply dumbfounded. “Blaine…”So worried. So damn worried it hurt him.There was a long pause when nobody said a thing. The static came in so clear and so loud that Blaine cried out, ripping the phone from his ear, letting it bounce onto the passenger seat, snapping closed. He looked at it like it was dangerous, then back up at the road. His first thought was that there was a wall right there, on the road. Then he realized there was no way a wall could span the entire horizon.Then he remembered the fog. The infamous fog that Silent Hill was famous for was in front of him, in such a way he’d never seen or even heard of.It was a blank, gray wall that began just past the sign that Blaine always shivered at. Yes, somehow the hour it took to get there was lost, and a queer tingle started up Blaine’s arms. It wasn’t right.Nothing was right today. Soon the car vanished into that wall of mist, and he saw the sign wherever he looked. Welcome to Silent Hill. Category:Maternal Heart Category:Scenes